Lonely Lullaby
by LilSheepish4427
Summary: One gloomy night, Dawn leaves Paul, but holds fast and finds strength in a song. Ikarishipping one-shot.


Before I begin, I have some stuff to explain about this one. First off, I am a HUGE Owl City fan. I LOVE Adam Young. Anyway, I was looking at iTunes top 100 songs, and I saw, toward the middle of the list, a new song called "Lonely Lullaby". I was like, woah, an Owl City song that's actually popular other than Fireflies? I had to hear it to believe it, and I have totally fallen in love with this song. It's BEAUTIFUL. I suggest listening to it while you read it, it might enhance the experience, or at least make the experience of reading this at least slightly entertaining, 'cuz I'm not sure how this one's going to end up… Anyway, secondly…well, that's my own reason, but you might be able to tell what it is by the mood of this story :).

So, here it is!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or its characters or the song "Lonely Lullaby" by Owl City.

"Lonely Lullaby"

She turned her head as the tears began to fill her eyes. She couldn't let him see them, couldn't let him know how much this was hurting her. He would just think it was weak. I'm sorry, Paul, she said; and with that, she left, running away in the pouring rain. She took only one look back, just one more to remember what she was cutting off from her life.

She saw him, his face still stone cold and showing no emotion, his eyes steadily on her as she ran off. She thought she saw a glint of regret, but…that must have just been her own longing. As if he would even care if she left.

She didn't know where to go. The closest person she could run to was all the way in the next city, and there was no way she could get that far in the rain. She walked down the road until she reached the old motel, the one they used to go when they came on vacations here. She could remember clearly, them sitting on the old musty bed, his arms around her. They both looked out the window together, the view being the one reason they would stay there, and he whispered in her ear, this place is perfect. I wouldn't mind living here. And from then on, it was their plan to live here when they had the money to do so.

There was no way she could go back there, diving headfirst into all those built-up memories, but she had to. The cold of the rain was starting to get to her, and she feared she would get sick. She ran inside.

I need a room for the night, she said at the front desk. The old man at the desk glanced away from his newspaper once before handing her a key. Here, he said before going back to his reading. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked to the stairs. He recognizes me, she thought. He knows I live here with him… She shook it off and walked on the third floor, searching for room 304. Upon finding it, she yanked open the door, shut it behind her, and jumped on the bed, not caring to check it for bed bugs like she would usually do. She rested her head on the lumpy pillow and looked up at the discolored ceiling. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help herself. The flood broke loose. She curled up slightly and sang quietly to herself, Overcast, these gloomy nights wear on, but I'm holding fast, 'cause it's darkest just before dawn…

She remembered how he used to sing her that line, just that one line, as she fell asleep every night. He used to sing it as a pun, it's darkest just before Dawn. He used to tell her his life instantly got brighter with her around.

Sometimes, he'd sing just that part of the line. I have no more gloomy nights now, Little Blue, he'd say. But lately, he had been acting as if those gloomy nights had returned, all because of her.

Why do you never sing the whole song? she asked him one night. He said, when the time is right, you'll hear it. She had never heard the whole thing, and she was sure there was no chance of her hearing it.

Paul, she'd said one night, I'm sorry your career didn't end up the way you wanted. I realized you've been working very hard and stressing out about it, but it's not the end of the world. But he said, you don't understand. Your life has always been so happy. She'd frowned. That's not true, she said. But it is, he said, turning on her. Then, as if just realizing, he said, it's your fault this has all happened. You make me stay up every night just to watch you sleep and sing you that stupid song. I've lost so much sleep because of that, and that's probably why I didn't get the job. From then on, he didn't sing to her anymore. And a week later, he blamed her for their financial crisis, his irritability, and everything else bothering him. The next day was the day he didn't smile, the gloomiest of days, and the day she left him.

She sang that one line over and over again, lying in that bed, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep. Deep down, there was a hope that he would call, maybe apologize, maybe beg her back. But the motel room was quiet all night, and no sound came from the phone in her pocket. The only thing keeping her from spiraling into a dark nothingness was that one line, telling herself that this was the worst of times, and that it could only get better.

The night dragged on, and morning reluctantly showed its face in the late morning hours, as it usually did during the fall. She was still singing to herself, staring up at the ceiling. She heard a knock at the door. It's unlocked, her voice croaked out, her eyes never moving from its spot on the ceiling.

The person opened the door and cleared their throat. He greeted her, and she knew it was the old man that ran the front desk. She didn't look at him.

There have been a few complaints about noises from here, he said, since the walls are so thin, I'm sure the whole building could hear. It was then that she broke down once more, and the man understood. He told her he would tell everyone it was just the pipes. He turned for the door. Before he left, he turned to look at her and said, maybe you should occupy yourself. I know there's some singing thing going on at the coffee shop tonight across the street. It might help, or something. And with that, he left.

She found herself walking across the street that night to the coffee shop. As she passed the front desk, she saw the old man, glancing from behind a new newspaper, nodding at her slightly. The cold air swirled around her as she opened the front doors and walked into the evening. The coffee shop was warm and inviting. She found a soft arm chair near the front of the restaurant where she could see the stage. There was one lonely microphone, a spotlight, and an old piano on the wooden stage. The boards creaked as the emcee crossed to the microphone. He introduced the first person to sing, some girl with a guitar of wood and a voice of silver. Nothing compared to his voice of gold, she thought, but she quickly pushed the thought away. She was here to forget him.

The next person's voice was like broken glass, and after him was a decent singer, not as good as the first, and not as nearly as good as-

She couldn't help it, like she couldn't help so many other things. She couldn't help how he treated her, she couldn't help her tears, and she couldn't help herself, much like she couldn't help the cutting feeling in her stomach driving her toward the door to leave.

But she was stopped by the next person's voice. This song is dedicated to someone I'll never forget, said the person. Then, sitting at the piano, he began to sing a song immediately recognized, even though she had heard but one line in her entire life.

_Symphony of silver tears,_ she turned her head and watched the singer._  
>Sing to me and sooth the ring in my ears, <em>her hand slowly covered her mouth._  
>Overcast these gloomy nights wear on,<em> she walked back to her old seat._  
>But I'm holding fast because it's darkest just before the dawn, <em>her blue eyes stared with astonishment.__

_I sang my princess fast asleep,_ like he had done every night._  
>'Cause she was my dream come true,<em> she would hear his words in her dreams as she fell asleep._  
>Oh Annmarie, believe me, I loved you,<em> Believe me, Paul, she whispered, I loved you, too.__

_But now those lonely lullabies,_ _  
>Just dampen my tired eyes,<em> the tears began to well up in her eyes._  
>Because I can't forget you, <em>No._  
>Because I can't forget you, <em>No, I can't forget you.__

_I'll dissolve when the rain pours in,_ the music welled up and surrounded her._  
>When the nightmares take me, <em>it embraced her like someone she knew._  
>I will scream with the howling wind,<br>'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream, _I'd rather dream of you.__

_Dizzy love turned a star lily pink,  
>And hung above our lids too flushed to blink,<em> she couldn't blink, she could only stare at the singer on the stage._  
>But icy blue froze the fairytale cold, <em>was it only a fairytale?_  
>Though I treasured you and you sparkled with someone to hold, <em>No, it was more than that.__

_I sang my princess fast asleep,_ I am not just a princess living the perfect life._  
>'Cause she was my dream come true, <em>was that why?_  
>Oh Annmarie, believe me, I loved you, <em>was our love only a fairytale? __

_But now those lonely lullabies,_ her eyes grew wide._  
>Just dampen my tired eyes,<em> her hands covered her face._  
>Because I can't forget you, <em>why did I even come here?_  
>Because I can't forget you, <em>don't make me forget you.__

_I'll dissolve when the rain pours in, _the singer's voice was haunting and beautiful._  
>When the nightmares take me, <em>it crescendoed the way his would. _  
>I will scream with the howling wind,<em> she couldn't stop thinking of him._  
>'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream, <em>she'd never stop dreaming of him.__

_I'll dissolve when the rain pours in,_ she had to see him._  
>When the nightmares take me,<br>I will scream with the howling wind,_ she had to tell him._  
>'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream.<br>And I'd rather dream, _she needed him, whether he needed her or not.__

_Annmarie, I'll never forget you, _the beautiful words followed her as she got up,_  
>Annmarie, I'll never forget you, <em>turned,_  
>Annmarie, remember me?, <em>walked between the others in the audience,_  
>I'll never forget you, <em>watched their bored faces,_  
>Annmarie, remember me?, <em>wondered how they were not wrapped up in this like she was,_  
>I'll never forget you, <em>opened the heavy door,_  
>Annmarie, remember me?, <em>braced herself for the cold and the confrontation,_  
>I'll never forget you, <em>squared her shoulders as she walked down the lonely street, the lullaby playing in her head.

Woah, that actually turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Just so you know, I purposely used no quotation marks. I am currently reading a book called _A Complicated Kindness_ by Miriam Toews (not toes, it's pronounced "taze") for school, and the author doesn't use any quotation marks. I think it fit the story.

Anyway, comments please! I'd like to know how this was. Thanks to everyone for commenting, and, as always, thanks for just reading!_  
><em>


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